Devil’s Cove (Tortured Souls) Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Brother?”
    Her hands came in contact with the coarse wool of his robes at his shoulder, and the pressure of tears built up in her tear ducts. She roamed higher until her hands cradled his face. Her fingers slid through a wet spot and grazed his lips. A sob wrenched out of her. He was bleeding.
    “I’m sorry, child,” he whispered.
    She was torn from the floor by the same set of strong hands that held her captive earlier, but she would not surrender without a fight. Turning, she smashed her fist through the air, praying she judged the height of her assailant accurately, and was rewarded with the pounding of rough skin and hard bones against her knuckles. Pain shot through her fist, but she continued her attack.
    “You can’t win, you stupid bitch,” Willie taunted, his hot breath on her cheek. He grabbed the bun at the nape of her neck and tugged hard, snapping her head back.
    “Say the word, Grace.” The captain’s voice was strong and calm, cutting through the ringing in her ears.
    Anger welled up in her until she felt she would explode. A deep hatred flooded her, and she screamed, “Yes!”
    “Hatchet,” the captain bellowed, “put her somewhere safe and don’t let anyone near her. Victor, now!”
    She found herself shoved onto a bench, and all hell broke loose around her. Tables crashed, and dishes clattered to the floor while grunts and curses ripped through the air. A splash of liquid doused her cheek; she flinched before wiping it away with the sleeve of her gown. The unmistakable clang of steel on steel reached her ears, and she pushed herself deeper along the bench until her back pressed hard against the wall of the establishment. Her heart fluttered madly while butterflies took flight in her belly. She would surely be sick.
    A part of her wished to press her hands to her ears and drown out the battle cries. Yet another part needed to experience the atrocity taking place all around her, for she was the cause. Damn Willie to Hell for robbing her of her sight and dignity. She opened her mind and willed a vision to come to her, to see what transpired in the tavern. But her visions lay outside of her control and did not see fit to come to her in that moment.
    Fists pounding against flesh assailed her over and over and over. Willie grunted and groaned under the assault. The beating he was taking now surely rivaled the one he’d taken at the hands of another on the shore of Devil’s Cove all those years ago.
    “Come,” Brother Anselm said, with impatient hands tugging at her. “We’re getting you out of here and into the safety of the captain’s carriage.”
    Thank God her mentor had recovered enough to engineer an escape. He guided her with infinite care, warning her when to step higher to avoid the obstacles in her path. His large frame shoved into hers and she stumbled, throwing out her hands as a precaution, but he righted them quickly. Within seconds they pushed through the door, and fresh air greeted her. Grace inhaled greedily. She would’ve stopped to indulge in the invigorating breeze, but her companion threw her cloak over her shoulders and ushered her forward.
    A latch sounded, and then she was urged to step up once, twice, and into the warm carriage, where her hand sank into plush velvet as she scooted across the bench seating. The faint scent of a cheroot lingered in the air along with sandalwood—Captain Limmerick. She took a deep breath and smoothed the skirt of her dress. How was he faring in the tavern? What if he didn’t succeed, and the caretaker carted her off to the asylum anyway? Only minutes earlier when faced with the choice of the asylum or Devil’s Cove Manor, she had believed the alternatives equally appalling. However, now, as she sat in the relative safety of the captain’s carriage with Brother Anselm at her side, she knew without a doubt that his offer was far better.
    In that moment, the carriage door flew open and snapped hard against the carriage wall before